8 Brand-New Romance Authors. Avril Tremayne

given in to the temptations of the devil. This whole episode was about getting what he wanted, not about emotions. Never emotions.

      He stood up and walked to the side of the yacht, checking their location, almost relieved to see they had arrived at his chosen bay. He breathed deeply, enjoying the salty tang in his mouth, trying to revitalise himself before he turned back to look at the woman who was now his wife.

      ‘Yes, we do. Including you.’

      The accusation in her voice was clear and he couldn’t help but smile at her pretence at fury. Her expression was severe, but her eyes were telling a different story.

      ‘It’s called life, Georgie.’ He put out a hand and stepped towards her. ‘And right now ours is for living. What about a swim in the sea? Wash all your troubles away?’

      For a moment he thought she was going to refuse. Confusion furrowed her brow, then she regained her composure, took his hand and smiled up at him, openly flirting.

      ‘A swim sounds delicious.’

      Delicious. She was delicious, with the wind wrapping the almost see-through kaftan close to her glorious body, the blue bikini showcasing just what a figure she had. Lust thudded in his veins and he cursed his wayward thoughts.

      ‘Something wrong?’ A hint of a playful smile tugged her full lips up at the corners.

      She knew exactly what was wrong, damn her.

      ‘No. Unless it’s wrong for a man to want to drag his wife back to bed instead of going swimming?’ His voice was deep and guttural with the effort of reining in his libido.

      She blushed and, as he had many times in the last few days, he wondered how she managed that little trick—how she managed to appear so innocent. ‘I think we should swim first. It’s not even midday yet.’

      First.

      She wanted him as much as he wanted her. Her darkening eyes were smouldering, giving him the message, setting fire to the embers of desire that had scorched his body last night. Never before had a woman affected him so much, made him want her so badly—but then never before had he had to wait so long to get a woman into his bed. And he certainly hadn’t had to marry her to do so.

      The irony of it wasn’t lost on him as he felt her hand in his. It felt surprisingly good, as if it was right. ‘I’ll hold you to that,’ he managed, despite the heat that raged within him. A swim in cold water was exactly what he needed.

      He led her to the platform that had been lowered once the yacht was anchored and slipped off his deck shoes. Her gaze heated his blood as he pulled off his shirt, the sun instantly warm on his skin.

      ‘Not joining me?’ he teased, tugging off his jeans, amused by the blush that crept over her cheeks as her gaze slid down his body, resting on the evidence of just how aroused he had become at her loaded promise of what was to follow their swim.

      The air crackled around them, their attraction as overpowering as if he hadn’t touched her, hadn’t tasted her skin or made her his. It was like the first time all over again, with anticipation raging in him like a bull.

      He dived into the blue waters, and the rush of cold over his body was just what he needed. As he broke the surface he wiped water from his face and looked back up at Georgina, now sitting on the edge, feet dangling in the water, wearing only that very sexy blue bikini.

      ‘It’s cold!’

      She laughed, her face lighting up, giving her an air of playful innocence, tugging at something deep within him.

      ‘Only at first. Come on—you’ll never know how good it is until you try it.’ He trod water as he spoke, energised by the exercise and cold water.

      * * *

      Georgina watched, mesmerised, as his strong arms kept him exactly where he wanted to be. His strength and power were undeniable. She was behaving like a lovestruck teenager. Her heart was still pounding after that moment when he’d stood before her in his trunks, his tanned skin gleaming in the sun, the hardness of his arousal obvious. She wanted him with a ferocious need so alien that her breath had caught in her throat, and she’d been relieved when he’d expertly dived into the clear water. Relieved he had taken the temptation from her.

      Cautiously she slipped into the water, gasping and laughing at the same time. ‘It’s so cold!’ She tried hard to be sophisticated and serene, but all she managed was a fumbling splash.

      ‘Only for a while,’ Santos said, and in one stroke he moved towards her, encircling her body with his arm, keeping her safe and close. ‘Like you were the day you propositioned me in my office.’

      Shocked that he’d brought that up, she stopped moving her arms and immediately sank below the surface. His arm around her body pulled her back up, spluttering like a child.

      ‘How dare you?’ She tried to move away from him, back to the platform.

      ‘Oh, I dare, querida—because it’s true. You want everyone to think you are carved from ice, but you’re not, are you?

      She clutched the platform, gained a foothold on the ladder and pulled herself out of the water, then turned to face him as he looked up at her from the blue waves. ‘Neither are you.’

      ‘Can you blame me when you stand there like a sea goddess, water dripping from you in a most inviting way?’

      ‘You’re impossible.’ The words rushed out, her frustration making her want to march away, but she couldn’t tear her gaze from Santos as in one swift movement that made the muscles in his arms flex he hauled himself out of the sea.

      Water ran down his tanned chest, trickling among his dark hair, heading downwards. She knew she shouldn’t be looking, but she couldn’t help herself. His thighs were strong and more dark hair lay flat against his wet skin, creating patterns all the way to his ankles. He was magnificent as he stood, sunlight gleaming on his skin.

      He grabbed her hand and without a word headed back inside the yacht, leaving her little option but to follow. She couldn’t say anything. The same sexual tension that had last night completely robbed her of the ability to think, let alone speak, raged around them.

      In seconds they were alone in their suite, and only then did he let go of her hand. For a moment they looked at one another, gazes locked in some sort of primal dance. His chest rose and fell with the effort of breathing, just as hers did, and she knew instantly where this was going to end—and, worse, where she wanted it to end. He was an addiction.

      With a muttered Spanish curse he turned and opened the door to the bathroom, and she watched through the doorway as he turned on the shower. She swallowed hard as he turned back to her, his expression almost fierce with control.

      ‘Santos...’ She managed a croaky whisper as he held out his hand to her. She took it and he pulled her hard against his wet body. Only then did she realise she was trembling.

      ‘You’re cold,’ he said quietly, but she didn’t miss the intensity in his voice.

      She wasn’t cold—not enough to tremble like this. It was him, and the electrified air that seemed to surround them.

      ‘Come on.’ He led her into the steam-filled bathroom and into the shower—one that had definitely been designed for two.

      His hands slowly untied the bikini where it fastened at her neck, and each time his fingers touched her she had to suppress a shiver of pleasure. He let the thin straps go and peeled the wet material slowly away from her breasts, his gaze lingering enticingly on them.

      He made a signal with his hands for her to turn around and slowly she did so, meeting the jets of warm water. Behind her she felt his hands as he released the final clasp of the bikini top and it dropped to the shower floor. Seconds later it was joined by his black trunks and her knees nearly buckled beneath her. Desire flooded her as he pressed his naked body against her back.

      Instinctively her chin tilted up and she leant her head